Storms, Scars, and Sins
by Evangeline Hightopp
Summary: It seems like the perfect woman has entered Derek Morgan's life, but if he's learned anything from his job, it's that everybody has their secrets.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Criminal Mind. I only own original characters I create.

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"Hold the elevator," a voice said. JJ slipped her hand between the doors of the elevator to keep it from closing. She looked out into the hall and saw Derek Morgan walking towards her.

"Thanks JJ," He said.

"Good job on the case today. That fact that you noticed that pattern was impressive."

Morgan shook his head, "I got lucky. Things like that normally stand out to Reid more than me. You did great today too."

"Just doing my job."

"You know, I always wonder how far this team would get without you. Controlling the media, communicating with departments, you do some essential stuff."

"I am pretty awesome aren't I," JJ laughed as Morgan complimented her.

"Although," Derek changed his voice slightly, "You are the one who ruins my weekends with these cases." His voice was tainted with sarcasm and the goofy look on his face let her know he wasn't serious.

"Hey me ruining your weekends is what gets you payed."

"Alright, I can appreciate that." The elevator reached the ground floor and the two of them walked out. They parted at the entrance to the parking garage.

"Drive safe Derek. This storm is crazy." JJ said referring to the massive thunder storm ravaging through the city.

"You to JJ, get home safe." Derek said as he walked over to his truck.

As he drove along, Derek let his mind wander back to the case they had just finished. The man they chased had killed 7 women without leaving a trace of evidence. It turned out he was actually one of the deputies responding to the 911 calls, which allowed him to cover up any evidence. He shook his head, thinking about all the flaws in the justice system. His mind wandered to Chicago, where he had once been arrested simply because the chief had a bad feeling for him.

The storm raged on through the city, traffic was insane. Derek got off the interstate and took a back road to his neighborhood.

As he drove along the dirt road something caught his eye. A car was parked strangely on the side of the road, like someone had tried to push it out of the way of other cars. He pulled his truck up beside it and tried to see if anyone was inside the car. It looked empty but it was hard to tell from all the rain blocking his view. Part of him wanted to drive away, the other part made him get out of his truck. His protective instincts, the ones continuously putting him in danger in the field, kicked in.

He hurried through the rain to the car windows, a squelching sound made with every step. The mud covered almost all of his shoes as he peered into the car. He looked for any sign that someone was injured- or worse. It was empty, but he noticed footprints moving away from the vehicle in the direction he was driving. He got back into the drivers seat and continued down the road, looking for any signs of life trapped out in the storm. He drove along for roughly 5 minutes until a human shape crossed his view. A woman was lightly jogging just off the road. The mud hindered her as her feet sank into it with every step.

Derek slowed down next to her and rolled his window down. "Excuse me. Miss?" He called out. The woman looked at him and started to run faster. Derek shook his head and continued to drive next to her. "Miss, was that your car back there?"

The woman stopped running and folded her arms across her chest. "Why are you following me?"

"It's not safe to be outside in this storm," He yelled over the sound of thunder.

"Right, because a strange man in a large vehicle might try to follow me."

Derek chuckled, "I'm sorry I scared you. Let me give you a ride home."

"That doesn't sound any less creepy."

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," Derek pulled out his badge and reached his arm over to the window. "I work for the FBI."

The woman walked over to his hand and grabbed the badge. He knew she believed him, the slight smile on her face gave it away. "Alright officer, just how easy are these to counterfeit?"

"They aren't. That right there is legit."

"How do I know you aren't a serial killer?"

"You don't. I guess you're just going to have to trust me and the badge."

"You know, Ted Bundy was considered attractive, that's what led to him having so many victims."

"Are you saying I'm attractive?" He laughed.

"I'm saying if I get in your car you could kill me."

"Alright how about this, Miss smarty-pants." He pulled a sharpie out of his glove compartment. "You write my name and badge number on your arm. That way if for some reason the police do find your body, they know who I am."

The woman gave him a smile. "What's stopping you from cutting off my arm?"

"Now who sounds like a serial killer?" The woman laughed as he said that. "I'm starting to think that maybe you should show me some ID."

"I left all my things in my car."

"If you think I'm a murderer, why would you tell me that. Now I know there is no way for the police to identify your body"

She opened the truck door, "Because I don't think you are one." She climbed in, almost slipping on the step.

"Carful now. I'm glad I passed the inspection." He reached his hand over to her, "My name is Derek."

"Yeah I got that from your fancy little ID over there." She shook his hand and smiled, "Brooke."

"So, Miss Brooke." He glanced down at her feet, "No shoes? That's not very safe."

She shrugged, "Well running through a storm in six inch heels isn't either."

"Running through a storm in general isn't very safe."

"So I've been told."

"Anywhere I can take you?" They both had a playful tone of voice, something about this woman seemed comforting to him.

"I would rather the man I just met not know where I live."

"Serial killer or not, I'm not letting you go back into that storm on your own."

"I can handle myself," Brooke laughed.

"There's no houses for at least three miles. Some other strange man could come sweep you off the streets."

"And that's the man I should be afraid of?"

"Precisely." Derek put his hand on the gear shift and put it into drive. "Since you don't want me to take you home, the least I can do is take you somewhere inside."

"It better not be your house."

"Don't worry darling, it's a public restaurant. Plenty of witnesses." He shook his head at himself. He had known this woman for less than 5 minutes and he had already given her a nickname.

"It's like you read my mind."

"It's what I do. Besides, once the storm clears enough to provide for some cellphone service I will call you a tow-truck." He drove down the road into the neighborhoods. He silently praised himself for taking this route home, wondering what might have happened to Brooke if he hadn't been the one to pull up next to her. The darkened sky would have made it even easier for something to happen. Too many women these days were disappearing off the streets. He saw too much of it at work, and he wondered if he had prevented this case from landing on his desk the next morning. He glanced over at her and saw that she was staring at him with a soft smile. "What? Still think I'm trying to kill you?"

"Nope, I'm just wondering how many other agents would help someone out off the clock."

"Probably not as many as I would like to think." He pulled into a shopping plaza, "Looks like your options are pizza or Chinese food."

"Chinese sounds good."

"Alrighty then," Derek parked his truck. He hopped out and hurried to the other side of the truck to open the door for her.

"An agent and a gentleman?" Brooke questioned.

"Absolutely, besides I saw you struggling to get in." He reached out his hand and she took hold of it. "Careful now the step is wet and you have no shoes," His voice trailed off when he remembered that last detail.

"Then you'd better be ready to catch me."

"Do these arms look like they would let you fall?"

"I'm not sure I want a stranger grabbing me," she teased.

"You never know what could be hiding in the water. It would be a shame if you were to get hurt walking through a puddle."

Brooke raised an eyebrow, "and just what are you suggesting?"

"Let me carry you to the door."

"We just met."

"Please. I don't want this little rescue to turn into an ER visit because you stuck your foot in ankle deep water and stepped on broken glass."

"Rescue?" She giggled, "Technically you kidnapped me."

Derek smiled and moved in closer to her, "I know you did not just say that."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"I'll start with getting you out of the rain. Safely." He moved his hand around her back, "It's not like you'll tell the police a strange man carried you so you didn't get hurt." She tensed up when his hand touched her back, but she didn't fight him.

"Woah now, officer, take me out to dinner first," She smiled. He could tell that she was thinking about recoiling, maybe even going to try and insist she could walk. Instead, she moved her knees closer to her chest to enable him to get a better hold on her. He was relieved by this gesture. They never broke eye contact as he pulled her out of the car. She wrapped her arms around his neck to stabilize herself. Her face was only inches away from his, and Derek felt like his surroundings had melted away, and that they were the only objects for miles. The rain continued to pelt them as he gazed into her eyes, and tried to read the emotions of the ones gazing back at him.

He pushed the door closed with his leg and began walking towards the door. He was glad he had convinced her, sort of, to be carried as his feet plunged into the dirty puddles of the parking lot. When he got under the awning he stopped moving.

Brooke slowly followed his lead, lowering her legs while holding tighter to his neck. She let out a laugh, which he responded to by raising an eyebrow, "What?"

"I've never been carried by a serial killer before."

"Darling, for the last time, I am not a serial killer."

She leaned into his ear and whispered, "That's exactlywhat a serial killer would say."

Derek shook his head and opened the door to the restaurant. "After you," He gestured. He stepped inside after her and walked up to the hostess. "Table for two." He saw the hostess look them once over, trying to hide a judgmental look. He couldn't blame them, they were both soaking wet and one of them didn't even have shoes on. He looked over at Brooke and took a sharp inhale, "Wow." He has only seen her through the light of his headlights and the dim lighting of the parking lot.

She smiled and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"I just- I-" He stuttered through his words. "Seeing you in the light. It's- it's just."

She laughed, "You should see me when I get all this mud off my face."

It wasn't like him to get all tongue tied like this. Usually, his flirtatious banter was steady and strong. This time, however, Derek found himself to be completely captivated. "I wasn't expecting you to be so, so-" He struggled to get a grip on what he was trying to say. He had gazed into her eyes in the dim parking lot, hazy and full of mystery, full of trust. Now as he gazed into them in the light of the restaurant he saw something else, something much more enticing.

The hostess walked back to them and as they followed her to a table towards the back of the restaurant, he silently thanked her for interrupting what felt like an eternity of speechlessness. Brooke stood up the moment the hostess had left the table. "I'm going to go try to wash all this nature off me," she gestured to her mud-caked legs and face. "Get me a water if I'm not back in time."

Derek nodded and just sat staring at the empty seat across from him. He scolded himself for getting so tongue tied, like a 13 year old boy talking to a cheerleader for the first time. He couldn't help but feel strange, like this was a blind date. When he picked her up off the street he hadn't considered that she had the looks to rival a model. The waitress came by and he ordered them both water.

He wondered to himself if this could be the start of something new for him. This woman was different than others he dated in the past. His looks meant nothing to her when he was trying to get her out of the rain. And her reaction to him being FBI wasn't cliche. Their playful banter reminded him of his flirtatious relationship with Garcia.

"What's with that goofy look on your face?" Brooke pulled him out of his thoughts. She sat down and took a drink.

"What goofy look darling?"

"That big ol' smile on your face."

His smile widened as he saw the face that had been hidden by darkness and dirt. He adjusted his pose and leaned into the table, "Just thinking about how lucky you are that I was the strange man following you. The car behind me could have hurt that pretty little face of yours."

Brooke leaned in too, "Well, then I guess a thank you is in order." She placed her left hand on top of his right, "Mr. FBI, thank you for not being a serial killer."

His goofy smile returned, "You're convinced?"

She shrugged, "For now, but, the night is young."

"I'll take it. Knowing you trust me, even if it's just a little bit, will make this dinner feel better."

She took another sip of her drink. "So, officer, what exactly do you do for the FBI. I didn't realize they hire bodyguards."

Derek laughed and shook his head. "I'm a profiler for the BAU, behavioral analysis unit."

"A profiler?" Her eyes shined with interest. "You get paid to stalk people?"

"Honey it's more than that, I put myself in the shoes of a serial killer, and I study their behavior to create a profile of whomever we are looking for. It's a huge help to the local law enforcements we get contracted out to."

"And you do this by yourself?" She asked.

He scolded himself for making it sound that way, without his team he was nothing. "No no no, I'm part of a team of profilers."

"Let me guess, you're the muscle of the team?"

"What I can't be the brains?" They both laughed. "Tell me, what do you do? I saw that fancy car of yours, must be something important."

"You said you were a profiler?" She raised an eyebrow. He nodded to her, "Then guess."

He chuckled, "I'm going to need to ask you some questions then. Let's start with your full name."

"Mmm, sorry officer, if you put my name in a search engine I'll be in the first 200 results."

"Is that so?" He crossed his arms. "We've already proven that I'm not a serial killer," She shot him a skeptical look. "Mostly," He added. "But I can't say the same about you."

"If it makes you feel any better, I would have snapped your neck when you were carrying me. You were quite vulnerable."

"It does, in a weird way. So what, you're famous or something?"

"Look, I'm really good at what I do," She emphasized each word as she said it.

"And so am I. So let me raise the stakes."

A smirk crossed her face, "To what?"

"If I can guess what you do, without asking any direct questions, like school or hours-"

"-and without cheating," she interrupted.

"And without cheating." He shook his head. "If I can guess correctly, will you let me take you out to dinner again? This time to a nice restaurant. Fancy clothes, wine, overpriced food, the whole lot."

She readjusted herself and leaned in again, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Are you saying yes?"

"We just met."

"Yeah, well I'm about to learn a lot about you."

"Alright Mr. FBI," His smile widened as she said that. "I will go on a date with you if you can guess what I do for a living."

"Do you promise not to lie?"

"I promise," She held her hand out and he shook it.

His heart filled with glee that she had accepted his proposition. He wished badly to be successful in this little game they were playing. He begged his profiling instincts not to fail him. The game had begun, and he needed to win, "So, darling, what do you do when you're not working?"


End file.
